


En Garde (3x4, PG)

by windsorblue



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-14
Updated: 2008-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-11 19:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/116252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsorblue/pseuds/windsorblue





	En Garde (3x4, PG)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

  
[30 kisses](http://postwarmiracles.livejournal.com/tag/30%20kisses), [pg](http://postwarmiracles.livejournal.com/tag/pg), [quatre](http://postwarmiracles.livejournal.com/tag/quatre), [trowa](http://postwarmiracles.livejournal.com/tag/trowa)  
  
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theme #25 - fence  
written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/30_kisses/profile)[**30_kisses**](http://community.livejournal.com/30_kisses/)

"I know you disapprove," Quatre said. Trowa had been watching him prepare - watching him adjust his chest protector and pull on his jacket - with that look on his face that only Trowa got. The look that said, quite clearly, _you're an idiot and I disapprove._

"It's not that I disapprove," Trowa said. "Disapprove is a strong word."

"It's an accurate word," Quatre countered.

"You've had better ideas than this," Trowa said. "That's all."

"It's not like I've never fenced before," Quatre began.

"Not the point," Trowa replied.

"In fact, I've fenced _her_ before." Quatre nodded in the direction of his upcoming opponent, who was tying her long blonde hair back, away from her face.

"Also not the point."

"Well then, what is the bloody point?"

"The bloody point is," Trowa said in his most irritatingly soothing voice, "that she practices three times a week. You practice - what, every three to six months or so, if you're lucky?"

Quatre frowned slightly. "Well..."

"Well," Trowa repeated. He stepped closer to Quatre - close enough to touch, even though he didn't. "You're going to get your ass handed to you on a platter."

"Maybe not," Quatre replied, half-indignant, half-resigned. He watched as Dorothy made a couple of practice swings with her epee. "She might...trip over her shoelace...or something."

Trowa's eyebrow quirked up, but he was kind enough not to say what was written all over his face. And after a long moment, he smiled. "I'll give you this, though - the little outfit is kinda hot."

Quatre's eyebrows shot up. "Little outfit?"

"Yeah." Trowa gestured, one-handed, up and down Quatre's body. "With the pads and the tight pants and all. Even the mask is kinda...you know." Trowa wagged his eyebrows twice.

Quatre let a slow grin creep across his face. "I'll have you know, this is not some 'little outfit'. This is the professional gear of a trained swordsman."

"Best money can buy, I assume?"

"Well, naturally."

"Nothing hotter than a man who knows how to handle his sword." And then Trowa was tugging at one of the buckled straps, hanging low over Quatre's waist, pulling Quatre to him for a long, possessive kiss.

"Try not to get your ass kicked too hard," Trowa said when the kiss was over.

"If I do get my ass kicked, will you make her cry again?" Quatre asked with a smile.

Trowa just laughed, and pulled the mask down over Quatre's face.  


 

 


End file.
